


[Remix of] Is That The Fangs I Get?

by Flowerparrish



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Fic Remix, I made it angsty a little whoops, M/M, Remix, Vampire AU, bucky barnes pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24820216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowerparrish/pseuds/Flowerparrish
Summary: Remix of "Is That the Fangs I Get?" by OriginalCeenote, with the beginning rewritten from Bucky's POV.-“He does know, right?”“Know what?”“That I’m a vampire.”“Oh! Yeah. He’d have to, right?”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 29
Kudos: 123
Collections: Winterhawk Remix 2020





	[Remix of] Is That The Fangs I Get?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OriginalCeenote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Is That the Fangs I Get?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17221007) by [OriginalCeenote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote). 



> Written for the Winterhawk Remix/Redux 2020 Challenge. I have long adored this fic, and I really enjoyed putting my spin on it (even if that was apparently just to take something sweet and cracky and give it some angst, whoops). OriginalCeenote, your fic is AMAZING, and I hope you like this even half as much as I love your stuff.

Bucky couldn’t be sure, most days, whether becoming a vampire was the best or the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Oh, it sucked—pun not intended—most of the time, but there was something to say for living on warm drinks and blood and nothing else. There was something to say for all the perks that came with being a vampire… but there was also the no going outside in daylight bit, amongst other aspects, that really put a damper on things. And he really hated being cold all the time.

But the worst part of all of it, he thought, might be the part where he’d driven across three states and ended up living with Steve. Even short term, it was more mother-henning than he could take.

So when Steve said a friend of a friend had a room for rent, Bucky jumped at the chance.

The last second before he hit send on his text to the guy, though, he remembered to look up at Steve and say, “He does know, right?”

“Know what?”

“That I’m a vampire.”

“Oh! Yeah. He’d have to, right?”

It was not until weeks later that Bucky realized _he’d have to_ was more of an optimistic statement than the fact Bucky had taken it as. Because, yes, if Bucky was going to live with someone, they would have to know he was a vampire. It just wasn’t possible to hide it in that close of quarters. It’s why he’d spent this long crashing with Steve.

But it was not yet weeks later. Instead, it was now, and Bucky hit send on his text without thinking twice about it.

*

Clint looked like a goddamn disaster, messy-haired and bright-eyed. His sweater was coming unraveled in one spot, and his t-shirt under it was untucked from his jeans, and Bucky still wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone so beautiful. He smiled without meaning to, tablet forgotten in his hands as if he hadn’t only just glanced away from it when he felt eyes on him.

“Hey,” Bucky said, because he could be normal. “Glad you made it.” He reached out to shake Clint’s hand and had to resist the urge to hold on, because he was so _warm._

But then Clint said, “Your hands are cold, buddy. You could use more iron,” and it was all the reminder Bucky needed to let him go.

He should have realized it then. But, looking back, he would allow himself the excuse that he’d just been so distracted by Clint’s… well, _everything,_ that he hadn’t taken it as more than subtlety. Subtlety, he would soon learn, wasn’t actually Clint’s strong suit, and with that realization would go the last of his ability to hang on to Steve’s reassuring _he’d have to know._

For now, Bucky just laughed softly and agreed. He gave Clint his Starbucks card and tried not to watch him like a creepy person while he went to get himself a coffee—and, hopefully, the food Bucky had tried to insist he get as well.

And, huh, wasn’t that strange. Bucky hadn’t been in the position to mother hen nearly as much since… well, the vampire thing. Since all of it. He wondered what it said that those instincts were returning now. It made him feel… normal. Good.

That realization was all it took for him to decide that he absolutely, definitely wanted the room Clint had to offer. It wasn’t like Bucky was picky about his living situation, anyway, so long as it was further than a room away from Steve. Because, as much as he loved the man, they did _not_ cohabitate well.

*

Clint’s landlord was easy enough to handle. He made some snide comments about it being _about time_ and how Bucky had better be reliable with his half of the rent.

Bucky bit back the comments he wanted to make—and he did _not_ eat the man, not even a little—and instead paid the next month’s rent up front. It was somewhat of a power play, and somewhat because he wanted to see if he could make Clint smile and take away some of the edge of worry that took over his features when he didn’t think Bucky was looking at him.

He didn’t get to see Clint’s face when he told him, sending the information in a text, but he could tell from Clint’s answer that he was pleased, if bewildered. It was about the best Bucky could expect.

And, there, he asked Clint to call him Bucky and tried not to let it feel like such a personal piece of himself to share. It didn’t seem like Clint knew how much it mattered, that Bucky held on to this aspect of his name. He’d called it memorable, and it was, but to him it was even more than that a memory of what it meant to be him. Not a vampire, or a monster, but just… Bucky.

The words _it’s dorky as hell_ made him smile fondly, a soft huff of laughter falling from his lips, and he thought this might have been one of the best decisions he’d ever made. He’d have to thank Steve’s friend Sam sometime if— _when_ —things worked out.

*

And they _did_ work out. For all that it was awkward, at times, getting used to living in close quarters with someone, there were a million moments to make it worth the effort of adjusting.

It did become apparent, at some point, that Clint… didn’t know. About Bucky. Like, at all.

He had no inkling.

He just thought Bucky was odd. And Bucky was torn between the impulse to tell him and the sneaking desire to see how this all played out.

Because, okay, look. He hadn’t had anyone view him as _normal_ in long enough that he had stopped hoping for such a thing. Steve came the closest, but it was different with Steve. He never once forgot what Bucky was.

But Clint didn’t get it when Bucky told him he didn’t eat food. When Bucky told him he lived on a dark red liquid.

And Clint didn’t get it when Natasha told him, point blank, what Bucky was.

And Bucky? God, Bucky was so hopelessly gone for this idiot.

He just hoped that by the time Clint figured it out, he wouldn’t be angry. That he’d feel the same felt like too much to hope for… but Clint had taught Bucky how to hope again. He could feel it take root in his chest.

And he hoped, _oh_ how he hoped, that this was something he could keep.


End file.
